Chapter Thirteen
Collin
Seven years ago. St. Louis, MO.
“Karina?”
She jumped at the sound of my voice, dropping her purse on the ground, the contents spreading across the floor like wildfire. “Shit,” she breathed, avoiding my eyes and dropping to the floor. I knelt beside her, grabbing up her things.
“Sorry,” I said, meaning it for once. She nodded, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, still avoiding my eyes.
“Hey, are you alright?” I asked, standing up with her as she tucked a journal into her bag.
She kept her head down, pretending to be interested in her fucking feet. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Have a good day, Collin.”
She turned to walk away from me, the heels of her boots clicking across the lobby floor. I looked up to make sure I was in the right building. Metropolitan Square. Mr. Matthews sent me here this afternoon on an errand.
So why was my angel here?
“Karina,” I called after her, jogging up to stand in front of her before she got through the front doors. She ducked her head again.
“What is it, Collin?"
“Stop saying my full name,” I bit off. Ever since she gave me my nickname, I wanted to hear nothing else fall from those lips. “Look at me,” I demanded, shoving my hands inside of my jeans. I wanted to touch her. I always wanted to touch her.
It was annoying, but fuck me, I was drawn to her.
The only reason I was even going to school was to get information on Dean Connors.
He was the new star player for the Chicago Cubs, Mr. Romano’s shiny new toy.
However, Dean Connors was a recluse. He didn’t come out of his high-rise apartment unless it was for baseball, so recruiting him had been difficult.
Even his managers had tried to get him to come out to one of Mr. Matthews' parties.
When that didn’t work, they sent me in to get close to his ex-girlfriend, but we had to keep Connors away. We sent him threats, and he listened, dropped Gwen Davenport like she was nothing and focused on baseball.
“What do you want?” Karina asked, her voice shaking.
“I want to see your eyes.”
After a moment, she gave me what I wanted, and I was floored.
A new kind of fury boiled up inside me, one I needed to unleash.
I stared at the brand-new bruise on her cheek, the skin on the outside still red.
“Who did this to you?” I growled, stepping closer to her.
She flinched. I was seeing too much red to care.
“No one. Don’t worry about it,” she stammered.
“Karina.”
Angel…tell me who hurt you.
I held my tongue, withholding her nickname.
The one I gave her. Mine and mine alone.
She was Kay to everyone but me. “Tell me now.”
“Col, please,” she whimpered, her bottom lip trembling as tears formed in her eyes. I wanted to touch her; fuck, it was need that ran so deep, but I couldn’t. I had other shit to do, people to kill, and yet, here I was, standing in the middle of a lobby concerned about this girl’s tears.
What the actual fuck?
My jaw tightened. I needed to kill someone. I hadn’t killed anyone since I was in Chicago last month.
“Give me a name,” I harshly whispered.
“Col, I can’t. He'll kill me,” she cried before running out of the building.
Present Day. Collin's mansion.
“Look at me,” I demanded.
She obeyed, her blue eyes shining bright for the first time since she had been with me. We were standing in my foyer as the luggage was loaded into my speedboat outside. She had just come down from seeing Haley, wearing the exact outfit I told her to wear. My angel was a vision in black.
The front door was open, the late morning sun shining into the house, making her blonde ponytail shine like a damn beacon.
An hour ago, she was coming on my face, begging for a form of mercy I wouldn’t give.
My cock was straining against my pants painfully, my thoughts racing, my dark world tilted on its axis as my angel smiled up at me.
Touching her was never a part of the plan, but when she pressed my gun into her, I lost all sense of control.
The second my lips touched hers, everything changed.
I gripped her jaw, her soft skin burning against mine. I couldn’t get enough. My dick ached to be inside her, stretching her, claiming her as she screamed my name.
“Who owns you?”
“You do,” she said. Two little words had the power to make me blow in my fucking pants. That dress she was wearing would be ripped from her skin later.
“Karina,” I warned.
She stepped closer to me.
“Col, I want this. I want you.” The softness in her voice sent a shiver up my spine.
A part of me didn’t like this—didn’t want this. This wasn’t what I was supposed to do. I should have killed her months ago, ridding myself of the temptation—but I could never fucking kill her.
The day my angel died would be the day I would light a match and watch this world burn.
“Wanting me comes with darkness, angel.”
I was taking her to Boston with me.
At this point, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.
My insurance was set in place, but she was never a part of this plan—no matter how much I might have wanted it.
She was never meant to be here. All I knew was that I wanted her with me.
Her presence was like nicotine. Addictive. Toxic. Heavenly.
She touched my face, her palm on my cheek.
Fuck. I liked that.
I loved that.
I tightened my jaw, hating that she had this power over me.
“I trust you, Col.” Her voice was soft and assuring.
“With more than just your body?” I snapped, not believing her. I didn’t give my blonde angel a chance to answer, walking away from her.
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, grabbing my arm.
There was darkness inside of her too, and I wanted to bring it out. I wanted to taste it, to fuck it, bend it to my will as I consumed her. Jesus.
What the fuck?
Turning to face her, I admitted the truth to myself.
I was pissed at myself for giving into her, wanting her with me.
I was pissed at Romano for lying to me, years and years of devoted service—for what?
I was pissed that I'd been running this goddamn empire for months while he lied to me, mourning a spineless son who liked to fall in love with cheap whores and whine.
Ray Romano underestimated me.
He thought he had control of me, but the truth was, I was in control of him. Behind the scenes, I was the one calling the shots, not him.
Did his men respect him? Yes, but they stopped fearing him a long time ago.
They only feared me.
This wasn’t his empire anymore.
It was mine.
My angel grabbed my face, bringing my lips to hers.
She was so fucking sweet, a taste of heaven.
I kissed her back, my hands grabbing her hips, my fingers digging into her softness.
She made me feel worthy—despite everything I had done.
She still wanted me; she still let me have her. Claim her. Own her.
I groaned into her mouth, needing to drink the light out of her as I backed her into the entry table, the vase of flowers crashing to the ground. She mewled for me as my tongue dominated her mouth.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
My hand found her throat again, and the memory of her passing out flashed before my eyes. I remembered the panic in her eyes as I cut off her airway, the gut-wrenching regret that I felt after followed by a wave of panic.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I didn’t deserve this—her. I was a monster, unworthy of the happiness she was offering me.
With a growl, I ripped away from her, turning my back to her as the sour taste of regret filled my mouth. She came around to my front without missing a beat, touching my face again.
“Don’t leave me. Don’t shut me out, Col,” she pleaded, tears in her eyes.
Never.
You don’t deserve this, Stevens.
But I want it.
I was beginning to wonder who the prisoner was here.
Her or me?
“We're running late,” I said, clearing my throat, trying to regain some composure as I pressed a hard kiss to the palm of her hand.
Spinning on my heels, I stepped outside and lit a cigarette.
As I inhaled the smoke, my thoughts settled, allowing myself this short time of peace as my eyes fell closed in the bright sun.
As the smoke drifted from my lips, I felt her presence beside me.
The wind that drifted over the water was cooler than it had been in recent weeks, the first sign that autumn would be upon us soon.
I favored that season over the others. During my childhood, the first cool day after summer felt like Christmas to me.
I'd never slept so contentedly, even if it was under a dump truck.
That same feeling of contentment settled around me like a warm blanket, promising happiness.
Because of her. Her hand wrapped around my upper arm, and I smirked at her sudden comfort—her boldness.
She wasn’t afraid to touch me, which was comical, considering the last person to touch me without my permission got their hand chopped off.
But why would she need my permission when her touch was the only thing keeping me sane?
The ending of the game had begun, the ninth inning upon us, and I was up to bat. Romano was the pitcher, but he had no idea of the power behind my swing.
As I began walking to the boat, her grip on me tightened as she stumbled on the grass.
“Are you alright?” I asked, stopping to look at her as my cig hung from my lips. She laughed, such a sweet sound.
“Col, you and I both know I'm not much of a high heel girl…and the grass—whoa!”
She yelped as I scooped her up into my arms, carrying her to the boat as I made a mental note to have a concrete pathway installed, possibly some tulips to line it as well, my angel’s favorite flower. Yellow. Bright, just like her.
“I’ll get it taken care of, Karina,” I promised, holding her eyes.